


paved with good intentions

by isabilightwood



Series: there are no endings, only new beginnings [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Novel AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Kanan is an angsty teenager, Obi-wan and Ahsoka don't have that excuse what are they doing, Padmé Amidala Lives, Parallel Universes, Satine Kryze Lives, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabilightwood/pseuds/isabilightwood
Summary: Time travel has been a mixed blessing for Ahsoka. She arrived too late to do anything about the fall of the Republic, or Anakin’s fall, but managed to save some few Jedi, and gets to help Padmé raise her children. But keeping a promise she made in the future may prove more difficult than she expected. And how is she supposed to convince an eighteen-year-old version of her ex-girlfriend to trust her?Kanan likes kids. Really, he does. But he’s also a fifteen year old boy who wants some time for himself (and for his Master to know what’s wrong without him actually saying anything). Which means it’s his turn for that Jedi Padawan rite of passage – running off on a mission against express orders, and hoping for the best.Meanwhile, Satine struggles to find her place in a galaxy where pacifism can’t win. And Obi-wan still searches for equilibrium. Neither of these problems can be solved with sarcasm, but they’ll certainly try.





	1. Kanan

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third part of a series. The first part, [one door closes, another opens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162259) should definitely be read before this. Part two, [the road to hell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390642), deals with different characters and doesn't have to be read before this, but will be relevant later on.

Atollon: 1 AFE

Kanan fought off an exasperated groan when he was poked sharply in the side for the fifth time in as many minutes. How was he supposed to learn anything when younglings he was constantly put in charge of babysitting couldn’t focus on the math worksheet they were supposed to be filling out for a few short minutes? This was the exact opposite of conducive to him learning about the Mandalorian-Jedi wars. Important things to know as a Jedi Padawan living in a tentative alliance with Mandalorian warriors, who might still resent him for reasons he didn’t understand. Thankfully the younger two were napping, and seemed happy that way for once, but the older three – 

Couldn’t these kids just let him  _read?_

For most of his childhood, Kanan was regularly chastised for asking impertinent questions of his instructors.  _That_  didn’t happen so much anymore. Master Depa and Master Obi-wan and Ahsoka were all happy enough to answer whatever questions he came up with, however unconventional, when they had time. They didn’t often have time. He was  _supposed_ to be Master Depa’s Padawan. But what he was, was a babysitter. No one else had time to watch the orphan or unwanted younglings Master Obi-wan kept periodically dropping off, so Kanan was stuck with it. Corralling small, excitable children between the ages of two and seven, and making sure they didn’t end up as spider-bait.

He didn’t say as much, though, just took all that resentment and  _shoved_  it as hard as he could into the Force. Forcing a smile onto his face, he looked down to find Hedala wringing her hands, with tears in her eyes. Her long black braid was a mess, tugged off to the side and half undone with a matted area the size of a fist near her right ear. Across the makeshift library (if it could even be called that, with only a few dozen books and no holocrons), on the kids’ cushions where he’d left them, the two oldest younglings, Gilin and Stara, a Zabrak by and a Kiffar girl, were giggling uncontrollably, obviously guilty. 

Kanan’s hands itched to pull at his own hair, but it was tied back now, too long to wear down without getting in his eyes anytime he read, or worked with his saber. He sighed instead, and attempted to summon what remained of his ever-decreasing supply of patience. “You two.” He started, and they sprang apart, attempting to look innocent. “Yes, just – no more hairpulling.” He finished lamely.

They shrugged, unrepentant, and went back from playing with the blocks that were definitely not the worksheets he’d handed them on datapads. No one listened to him, ever. And why should they? He was just a Padawan with exactly zero field experience. Clearly the kids could sense it.

At least Hedala hadn’t retaliated by tossing books at their heads with the force again. The girl had an astounding level of control for a five-year-old youngling, helped along by how much she enjoyed helping him develop his own force sensitivity by flinging rocks for him to block blindfolded. He shifted his chair back, letting Hedala climb up onto his lap. She buried her face in his shirt and whimpered softly, as he patted her hair absently. 

He didn’t mind kids, really. Liked taking care of them, mostly. He just – felt forgotten. Master Depa had little time for her actual Padawan, and seemed to prefer splitting her time between the younglings, or building her new Jedi Order. Which was exactly what she was doing in the far corner now. How could he help but feel abandoned?

When Ahsoka, or Rex, or Master Obi-wan were on planet, or Senator Amidala had a rare moment free from her own children and duties, they made a point of checking in with Kanan. Despite their many commitments. But his Master didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong. 

Kanan knew possessiveness was not the Jedi way. He just hadn’t been able to let go of it yet.

Just like he hadn’t been able to let Sammo Quid, or Tai, or any of the Jedi who died in Order 66. Petro and Katooni had lost their year-mates, too. Ones they had apparently been very close to, something unlike Kanan’s complicated and competitive friendship with Tai and Sammo Quid. But they had hope they were alive somewhere in the galaxy. Two of them, at least, who had been in Master Fisto’s group of younglings. 

Kanan felt his friends die, shortly before Rex and the 501st burst into the Temple hanger. In the moment, adrenaline took over. But later – later he had fallen apart. And he’d never quite managed to put himself back together. Stuck here on Atollon, stagnant, he wasn’t sure he could recover. No one else seemed to be having the same problems, not even Master Obi-wan, who had seemed so  _broken_ in its immediate aftermath. He was  _sad_ , and  _guilty_ , but whatever he was doing out in the galaxy seemed to be helping. Kanan wanted that too, but every time he asked he was told “you’re too young, wait a few years.” As though he hadn’t been set to deploy in the Clone Wars with Master Depa only days after Order 66 ruined everything. As though Master Ahsoka hadn’t been an experienced warrior at his age. 

So Kanan pretended he was alright. No one had noticed he wasn’t yet. He figured he must be doing a good job of pretending.

Something soft brushed against his ear. His hand came up to grab it, and he found a flower made of folded flimsy. A creation of Hedala’s. She must have noticed his gloomy tract of thought, and decided to brighten his day. Kanan smiled and tucked the flower back behind his ear. Hedala grinned brightly in return. 

Unfortunately, Gilin and Stara saw it differently. “Teacher’s pet!” Gilin taunted her. Hedala jumped off his lap, incensed, her anger bleeding into the force.

Kanan slapped his hand over his eyes, and groaned. He could not take this anymore.

But he also couldn’t let Hedala fight the two older children, or wake the younger two, who would start screaming and make everything worse. He forced himself to raise his head, just in time to see Hedala throwing a book at Gilin’s head. Kanan reached out his own hand, redirecting the projectile’s path so he could catch it easily. Gilin and Star attempted to tackle Hedala, but were brought up short when Kanan stepped in their way. He scooped Hedala into his arms. She clung to his shoulders, and burst into tears. He wouldn’t let her get away with the book throwing but that didn’t mean Kanan wasn’t sympathetic.

Sammo Quid and Tai had been his friends, but they ganged up on him on occasion. For his questioning tendencies. For catching the attention of Master Obi-wan when he taught a lesson, and later for his early acceptance as Master Depa’s Padawan. He missed them with all his heart. But he wanted things to be better for Hedala, where they could. A bright, talented youngling under the Empire had enough to darken her life without fraught friendships to make it worse. 

So they would all get a talking to.

If he could figure out how to do that without messing it up. Who decided Kanan was capable of this again?

“Caleb? What’s wrong?” Master Depa’s voice came from behind him. He turned, finding her standing in the doorway. Of course, she had to ask that now, out of concern for the younglings, and not to him, in private. Oh, and the little ones were awake in their cribs, looking over at Kanan and the older children with wide, frightened eyes. Great. 

Everyone but Master Depa called him Kanan, now. What started as a nickname from Ahsoka spread across the base to the point where half the people there didn’t know it wasn’t his birthname. He liked it. The name came from the other him, the one Ahsoka knew, who had made it to adulthood under the Empire, and fought against it. Though Ahsoka wouldn’t give him any details on the other Kanan’s life, she sounded proud on the rare occasion she mentioned him. It was a good name, one that symbolized rising above everything that had gone wrong in his life, and finding a path forward as a Jedi in this terrible, new galaxy. 

If only Kanan could figure out how to do that.

“Sorry, did you not hear the fight I had to break up?” Kanan blurted out, and winced. Is irritation with his Master could wait until they didn’t have an audience. Or for never. Preferably never.

“I see a Padawan losing his patience.” Master Depa channeled Master Yoda, minus the archaic speech patterns. “Teaching is as much about learning as it is passing on your knowledge to others.” 

One of her serene statements of universal truth weren’t what he needed right now. Especially when he wasn’t so much teaching as attempting and failing to reign in a situation constantly on the verge of explosion. Nor did he need the imitation of Master Yoda or Master Windu she seemed to be trying to become. He needed his blunt, humorous Master to talk to him like she used to, to let him tell her his concerns, and have her confide hers in turn.

Now Kanan just felt like he would be burdening her with his problems, when she had so many of her own. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel she should take a page out of her own book. He meant to restrain the urge to tell her so, but his mouth had other ideas. “What are you learning by  _not_  teaching me, then?”

Kriff. Did Kanan have  _any_  control over what came out of his mouth, or had mind-controlling nanites taken over like in that one holodrama Katooni liked?

“I am teaching you.” Master Depa sounded confused, as though she hadn’t noticed how much less time she was spending on him. Maybe it wasn’t intentional. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening. What did it say about him that his own  _Master_  hadn’t noticed anything was wrong? Clearly, he wasn’t her priority.

“What? How to babysit? Because that’s all you’ve had me do for  _months!”_  And he was shouting now. Definitely mind-controlling nanites. Kanan had better control over his emotions than this. Didn’t he? Hedala squirmed in his arms, so he set her gently on the ground. His agitation must have disturbed her. Thankfully, she was old enough not to react too strongly, and simply walked away from him to pout in the corner. 

“ _Patience.”_  She said.

“ _Patience?”_  He squeaked, incredulous, his voice breaking on the word. “I’ve been nothing  _but_  patient. I –”

“I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion.” Master Obi-wan’s distinctive, overly amused voice came from the entryway. He spun towards the sound. He was grateful for the interruption, but it was bad enough this happened in front of the younglings, who would definitely be even worse the next time Master Depa set Kanan on babysitting duty now. But in front of Master Obi-wan? Kanan felt his entire face flush in embarrassment. “But I need to borrow your Padawan, Depa.”

Kanan looked back at his master, uncertain. She nodded, and immediately focused on calming the younglings. So Kanan followed Master Obi-wan out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

“What did you need?” He asked.

“Nothing. We could hear you from next-door.” Obi-wan radiated amusement, over that ever-present sadness he had only begun to figure out how to conceal since the birth of the twins three months earlier. 

Kanan flushed darker. “Sorry.”

“What, you think no one else has ever gotten frustrated with their master? I certainly did.” He reminisced in a way that was touched with an older, more settled grief, rather than the raw pain that more frequently flashed across his face. “Even Depa had the occasional blowout with Mace.”

“She did?” It was hard to imagine his Master as a young woman, yelling at the Master of the Jedi Order. And harder to imagine stern Master Windu tolerating it.

“Oh, yes. They were infrequent, but legendary.” Obi-wan chuckled. “Once, he left her to complete treaty negotiations between two rival sects on – I can’t remember what planet – to go catch a con artist who had duped both sides, which was  _not_  part of the mission. She nearly ended up engaged to a princess because of it. When Depa finally got back to Coruscant, she read him the entire Senate regulations for the Order in front of the Council.”

A short, harsh laugh burst from Kanan’s throat. That  _did_  sound like the Master Depa he’d known on Coruscant. But not the one here. “At least  _her_  Master trusted her to do things if he needed to be off doing something else.”

“She was only sixteen. You’re only fifteen.” Master Obi-wan frowned, but then a look of realization dawned on his face. “Do you think Depa doesn’t trust you?” 

“I don’t know.” Kanan admitted. “She doesn’t have time for me, anymore. And doesn’t send me to do anything on my own either.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” The Jedi Master tugged at his beard contemplatively. “Why haven’t you mentioned this to her?”

“She’s trying to do so much. I don’t want to get in the way.” He mumbled.

“You wouldn’t be.” Master Obi-wan assured him. “It may not always feel that way, but she cares. If you ask her to listen, she will. I promise.”

“I just wish I could do something. But I’m just stuck here.” Kanan sounded like a whiny child to his own ears.”

“You want to listen to parents yelling at me about how they don’t want to uproot their lives? Because that’s mostly what happens when I go off planet.” He said wryly.

Kanan looked at his feet instead of responding.

“Anyway, I need to get back to Petro. Why don’t you join us? Petro could use a sparring partner who isn’t an old man.” Master Obi-wan attempted to joke. 

“Not today, I think. I’m feeling too… negative.” Kanan appreciated the offer, but knew he didn’t have enough control over himself not to affect Petro, who didn’t have great control at the best of times.

“Some other time.” Master Obi-wan’s knowing smile somehow made things worse. Kanan nodded, and turned to start walking away. 

“Kanan.” Master Obi-wan’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “You need to talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, or Depa, if you don’t want. I just don’t want you to end up –” 

He cut off, suddenly choked, but he didn’t need to finish that sentence. Kanan knew how it ended, what everything revolved around for Master Obi-wan. Unresolved guilt and loss over Anakin Skywalker. “I understand.”

He offered the Jedi Master a smile that was more of a grimace before walking away. Just because it was advice stemming from grief didn’t mean it wasn’t good advice. The opposite, probably. The fact that Kanan didn’t want to follow it probably meant he should do exactly that. At some point.

Kanan lay back on one of the many rock outcroppings surrounding the base, absently tapping his heels against the hard surface. Rough points dug into his back. The hot sun beat down on his face. He had not so much intentionally meditated as accidentally drifted into a state that was half-meditation, half-nap. He felt calmer now, but no less unbalanced. The world looked overly bright and out-of-focus. He also probably had a sunburn, which wouldn’t be fun tomorrow.

The sound of an incoming ship’s engine made him sit up. It was the  _Morai,_ back from wherever Ahsoka was doing whatever it was she did as Fulcrum.

“Ahsoka!” He called, waving as she walked down the ramp of her ship. He had given up calling her master recently, letting her win that fight. Something about her demeanor seemed different, downtrodden. But when she saw him waving, she straightened and smiled just like always. Kanan jumped down from his perch and ran to meet her. He skidded to a stop before he would have crashed into her. “How was… wherever you were?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now. I was on Lothal.” Ahsoka answered, with a sigh. “I was… unsuccessful. To say the least.”

“What happened? Did you fight any imperials?” He asked.

“No, nothing like that.” She chuckled. There was a harsh edge to the sound. “I  _do_  know how to keep under the radar, unlike the restof my lineage. Lothal’s barely occupied yet. I can avoid a few stormtroopers.”

Kanan laughed at the dig at Master Obi-wan’s tendency to get himself into difficult situations, even now when he couldn’t blame them on his former Padawan. He hadn’t been recognized on a mission yet, but they all knew it was only a matter of time. The imperial ships and other devices he turned up with on a semi-regular basis, after having lost his original transport while causing havoc or attempting to escape  _were_  useful. Everyone admitted it. That didn’t stop Senator Amidala from chewing him out, or Ahsoka (or Rex or Master Depa or Kanan himself) from laughing every time. 

“But enough about me. Something’s bothering you. Walk with me.” It was an obvious change of subject, but a perceptive one. Ahsoka didn’t want him to know something about Lothal, but she did want to know what was wrong with Kanan. He nodded sheepishly, and fell into step beside her, lengthening his stride to match her longer one. “What is it?”

“It’s. um.” He stuttered, the words not wanting to come out.

“Take your time.” Ahsoka smiled down at him as she opened the door to her office. Kanan gathered his thoughts, trying to find the right phrasing. But it wasn’t to be. A flashing red light awaited Ahsoka on the holoprojector, and she rushed to check it. “Sorry. Secure channel. This could be important.” She grimaced at him apologetically, but answered the call without waiting for a response. The Viceroy of Alderaan’s holo appeared, concern etched into his brown.

“Bail! This is a surprise.” Ahsoka’s tone was warm, but the twitching of her lekku betrayed her anxiety.

“I’m afraid I have some news. About Raada.” Senator Organa replied.  _Raada?_  Kanan had never heard of a Raada. A planet, maybe? Or a person?

“And it’s notable enough you called me yourself.” At the Senator’s nod, Ahsoka swore. “Kanan, we’ll have to finish this talk later, alright? Can you ask Rex to come here?”

Not even Ahsoka wanted him around for anything  _important_. She could have simply commed the former clone captain, who accompanied Ahsoka off-planet more often than not. Whenever Rex wasn’t busy trying to track down and extract old compatriots, and Ahsoka wasn’t being especially secretive regarding the future. Kanan frowned, but nodded. She didn’t seem to notice his confirmation.

He found Rex pouring over data in the command center, a long-cooled cup of kaf at his left elbow. The older man – for all they were born in the same year, Rex’s accelerated aging and personality made him much older. He looked, acted, and felt like Ahsoka’s age. Kanan had never seen him even slightly ruffled, other than the first time they met, when Ahsoka delivered the news of Vader’s betrayal. He claimed it was from his years of working with Jedi, and from what he’d heard of Skywalker’s exploits – what he knew of Ahsoka and Master Obi-wan’s  _now_  – that seemed a likely explanation. Of course, Rex wasn’t much better at admitting when he needed help.

Once, he and Ahsoka returned sporting a blaster wound each, and proven equally recalcitrant in seeking medical attention, insisting Kix help the other first. Only when Kix announced that medical outranked everyone and  _you both just need to put on a bacta patch and sit down for a few hours calm down_  had they stopped, and sheepishly accepted help. And only now that Kanan came looking for Rex did he realize how obvious it was that the captain was running himself into the ground. He had been too wrapped up in his own problems to notice. 

When he glanced at the screen over Rex’s shoulder, Kanan was unsurprised to find trooper service records spread out across it. Most but not all from the 501st or 212th, and – interestingly, all listed as discharged.

Since when had the Empire begun discharging clone troopers? And why? None would have aged out yet – Rex was one of the oldest, and even he only looked around thirty. The Empire didn’t pay them, and didn’t even bother to pretend it wasn’t employing slave labor, like the Republic had. None of this made sense. 

Kanan was prevented from musing further on the subject when Rex realized he was there, and promptly knocked over his kaf. 

“Sorry!” Kanan looked around uselessly in an attempt to locate something to clean up the spill. 

Rex grabbed a discarded rag, and dropped it over the mess with a sigh. “I wasn’t going to drink that anyway. Were you trying to give me a heart-attack on purpose, or did you need something?”

 “Right!” Kanan straightened, remembering that he had been sent here to retrieve Rex, not get distracted by his research. “Ahsoka wants to see you. In her office.”

“What did you do to get saddled with messenger duty?” Rex asked wryly, already beginning to walk away.

“Nothing! I swear!” Kanan insisted, scrambling to follow him. 

“Sure you didn’t.” Rex chuckled. He ruffled Kanan’s hair before entering the office, letting the door swing shut behind him. Kanan scowled, attempting to tame the mess Rex had made of his ponytail back in order. The door failed to shut completely. 

Kanan didn’t mean to eavesdrop, not really. But they weren’t exactly being quiet, and he was curious. Surely no one could blame him for staying to listen.

He couldn’t hear much, though. Just something about an occupation on Raada. And an uprising? Maybe Kanan wasn’t sure. What he  _did_  hear was there was someone or something important there. To the Rebellion? Or to Ahsoka? This was the most interesting news Kanan had heard in weeks. A puzzle for him to solve.

A quick search on the HoloNet revealed Raada was a moon – a sparsely inhabited moon with one known population center, dedicated mostly to subsistence farming. This place was important to Ahsoka, though he didn’t know why. Kanan somehow  _knew_  he could help with this one. With that, he decided. He would go to Raada.

Kanan would prove he could be useful, and then Master Depa, and Ahsoka and all the others would have to take him seriously. Include him on missions, train him, give him  _something_  to do other than run a daycare center.

There was a lambda class shuttle sitting in the hanger that Master Obi-wan stole a few weeks back, having somehow managed to get the freighter he left with impounded on smuggling charges when he wasn’t carrying any cargo. Ahsoka had already changed the serial number so it wouldn’t scan as stolen. Kanan would take that.

He did not count on running into Katooni rewiring the weapons systems of an A-wing as he tried to sneak on board.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Kanan Dume?” The younger girl said in an imperious tone, with a toss of her head.

“Um. Out?” Kanan cursed himself internally. Way to sound suspicious, Dume. Great job. Now Katooni would snitch on him, and everything would be ruined.

Katooni shook her head, managing an impressive imitation of Master Obi-wan’s disappointed look. She held that for a beat, making him sweat, then broke into a grin. “I think you’re going somewhere  _interesting_. And I want in.” 

Right, this was Katooni. Why had he been so worried? She had been afraid to bend the rules at the start, but her time spent with the sorts of people the rebellion attracted made her more fun. Just as Petro did the opposite, as he strove to impress Master Obi-wan.

“I’m really not. Just a standard flight around Atollon.” Kanan protested, trying to make it convincing. He really shouldn’t be doing this. Who knew what danger he was heading into? Taking Katooni along would make everyone angry. “You know I’m not allowed off-planet.”

“On the imperial shuttle? Not you’re A-wing?” She put her hands on her hips, and leaned against the fighter, not the least bit convinced. “You’re going off planet without permission. So. You take me with you, or I tell Master Depa.”

Right. That’s why he’d been worried.

“Fine, you can come.” Kanan sighed. Katooni had a tendency to get her way that he envied. Particularly since he had yet to get the better of her, especially since she had stopped clinging to him, and started being more like an annoying, impertinent little sister. “But I’m flying.”

“Ok.” Katooni shrugged and wiped her hands off on a grease cloth. She bounced over to him, and into the shuttle. He followed her on board. Katooni liked fixing ships well enough, but she had yet to develop a taste for flying. Partially because she wasn’t tall enough to see over the dashboard yet. She settled into the co-pilot’s seat while Kanan ran pre-flight checks. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Someplace called Raada.” He replied absently as he flicked the switch to turn on the engines. They rumbled to life.

“Ooh, the moon Master Ahsoka’s ex is from?” Katooni swung her feet against the chair, her legs still too short to reach the ground, despite a recent growth spurt.

“Ex?” Kanan stopped what he was doing in confusion.

“Yeah, some doctor or something.” Katooni said, shrugging again. She didn’t seem to think she’d said anything unusual. But then, she was still too young to really understand that Jedi didn’t really talk about those things. Ahsoka certainly hadn’t said anything to him about it. “The one from how she survived in her timeline?”

“Oh, right.” Maybe she had told him, after all. He returned to his task, guiding the shuttle smoothly off the ground and out of the hanger. Within a few short minutes, they were in hyperspace, en route to Raada via several short intermediate jumps.

 Seven hours later, they arrived, and Kanan realized exactly what “occupation” meant. Not a contingent of troops, or even a light cruiser, either of which should have been more than sufficient to contain the population of Raada’s only settlement, but a Star Destroyer. The last time Kanan saw a Star Destroyer, he had been escaping Coruscant, shooting down men who should have been his allies, still reeling from Order 66, but already pretending not to be.

He realized he was staring through the viewport, his heart pounding in his ears, when Katooni poked him.

“Aren’t you going to answer the comm?” She looked at him quizzically. The shuttle’s comm was blinking, and an officer’s voice asked for their codes.

Kanan shook his head to clear it, and pressed the button to reply. He deepened his voice to sound older. “This is Lambda Class Imperial Shuttle LS-25175 carrying Lieutenant-Commander Yunar, reporting to Raada base for inspection of the rations production facilities.”

He held his breath while they waited for a response. Lieutenant-Commander Yunar  _was_ a real person, who did run inspections, currently stationed half-way across the galaxy on Rodia. Or he had been, when he came up in intelligence files Kanan helped Senator Amidala sort through a few days earlier. Yunar was also extremely corrupt, and gave up every secret he knew to a courtesan who had joined Ahsoka’s Fulcrum Network. The officer apparently bought his story, because they werenot shot down, and were instead granted permission to land on the moon below. 

Kanan was glad to learn Ahsoka was right about Imperial tending not to do anything that might give them extra paperwork, like requesting more information from the system. It would have been a fatal way to prove her wrong.

He flew towards the moon, but skirted the settlement as he approached, intending to land somewhere no one would question a human teenager and Tholothian youngling exiting an imperial shuttle. It was night on Raada, and no one was out in the streets. The town seemed mostly abandoned, save one or two lights.

The sight of an explosion on the Imperial base disrupted his plans. Without really thinking about it, Kanan swerved to make his approach near the explosion sight.

“Whoa, what are you thinking?” Katooni yelled, as his quick turn threw her hard into the side of her seat.

The true answer would be that he hadn’t been. But that wasn’t what he told her. “I’m thinking, that smoke is where we find whoever Master Ahsoka’s looking for here.”

“And the Imps who come to investigate?” Katooni rubbed at her head where it had knocked into the headrest.

“We can take them.” He shrugged, grinning at his scowling companion.

“How does drawing attention to ourselves help with anything?” Katooni shrieked when Kanan nearly ran them into a building. It was possible he might need more practice flying in civilization, if he was doing this badly in a small town.

That – might have been a good point. But they were already almost there, so it was also a moot point. “So critical.” He muttered. As the scene of the explosion came into view, so did the culprits, a group of ragged-looking locals, all human. And the unit that had been sent to deal with them.

Kanan brought the shuttle in to land directly between the two groups. That must have tipped the stormtroopers off that something was wrong, because they started firing uselessly at the side of the vessel before it touched the ground. He lowered the ramp, and abandoned ship. Kanan jumped to the ground with less than the practiced flair the Jedi were known for, Katooni at his heels. They sprinted for the four locals, who were watching the scene unfolding before them with more curiosity and less running for their lives than Kanan would have recommended.

He came to an abrupt halt in front of the locals. A teenage girl was yelling at her companions to leave, waving a blinking device around for emphasis. Her three companions were too focused on his unexpected arrival to pay attention. And was that a bomb? No time to worry about that now. They could expect blaster shots at any moment.

“Hi, I’m Kanan. I’m here to rescue you. May I suggest you run?” Kanan gave his best impression of Master Obi-wan and added a wink to the girl for extra effect. If there was anything he had learned from that man, it was that there was never a bad time for flirting. And the girl was cute.

Katooni groaned and rolled her eyes. “What he said. Get moving.”

“Miara Larte. I’ve been trying to tell them that.” The girl tossed her head as she pointed at her companions with her thumb. She was the youngest of their group, but only the young man seemed at all perturbed at being ordered around by Miara. Him, they watched with suspicion. “ _I’ve_  got this handled.”

The stormtroopers gave them no more time for debate. A barrage of blaster fire hit as the they rounded the shuttle.

Kanan switched on his lightsaber reflexively. Its bright green blade lit up the night sky, shining a beacon on their position if anyone was watching from above. But it also let Kanan deflect the bolts back toward their owners. One of the troopers scream and fell, clutching their thigh.

“Run!” He cried. At long last, they listened. Except, of course, for Miara, who merely ducked behind him and lobbed her grenade at the stormtroopers. It exploded on impact, knocking them back and obscuring them from sight. Which meant the surviving troopers couldn’t see them either.

“ _Now_  we run.” Miara said, and proceeded to do just that. Kanan and Katooni followed her into the maze of identical buildings that made up the imperial base. Katooni had never drawn her own lightsaber, Kanan realized. That struck him as odd.

A passing patrol made them duck into a dark corner, beneath a lit window. 

“You bubble-headed idiot!” Katooni screeched as soon as they had passed, and kicked him in the shin.

“You chose to come!” He hissed back, rubbing at his poor, victimized leg.

“Shush.” Miara hushed them in a stage whisper, and pointed into the window they had ducked beneath. Sure enough, a few seconds later an imperial officer with a rank marking on his lapel walked into view, speaking to a holoprojection. The officer’s correspondent was cloaked, their species indeterminate – unusual for the Empire, which collected humans and discarded long-serving non-human officials like trash.

“Officer Pilar, Lord Inquisitor.” The officer drawled. “I have information you may find interesting.”

An Inquisitor. Kriff. And Kanan had just handed their only way off planet over to the Imperials. Katooni kicked him in the shin again. He hopped in place, attempting to keep his balance while clutching his stinging leg without alerting Officer Pilar to their presence. But he couldn’t summon a glare for her. He deserved that. What had he been thinking, coming here in the first place? Clearly, he hadn’t been. That seemed to be something of a recurring theme recently.

“Yes, I do believe we’ve found a Jedi.” Officer Pilar continued. Kanan couldn’t hear the reply, but the officer’s response made their situation clear. “Three hours? Excellent. We have his ship on lockdown. There will be no escape.”

“We’ll have to fight our way out.” Kanan declared, when Officer Pilar had left.

“I didn’t bring my saber.” Katooni’s response was deadpan, indicating this should have been obvious to him.

“What do you mean you didn’t bring your saber?” Kanan asked, incredulous.

“Of course, I didn’t!” Katooni put her hands on her hips, and stuck out her lower lip petulantly. “No lightsabers off planet? Don’t attract the Inquisitors? We don’t want anyone catching on that any of us are still around? Ringing a bell in there, bolts-for-brains? We need to wait for Master Ahsoka.”

It was starting to dawn on Kanan that he might have made a horrible mistake.

Miara let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll just have to hide you then.”

“Why?” Katooni asked, suspicious. “No offense.”

The other girl snorted. “None taken. You saved my life. You say you’ve got backup coming soon?” Kanan nodded. “Then I can hide you for a few hours. No problem.” She threw her cloak at his head. “Put this on.”

“Thanks.” He mumbled from beneath the thick fabric. Kanan sounded more ungrateful than he felt. He might have saved Miara’s life, sort of, but he’d probably made things a lot worse for her people in the long run. Screwed up whatever Ahsoka’s plan had been. He was the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Kanan hasn't lost Depa, has a support system, and isn't living on the streets, he'll probably never be as badly off mental health-wise as he was in canon, but I don't want to erase his depression or PTSD, since they're important parts of his character. Though the stuff in this chapter is 90% just him being a teenager whose gone through a trauma.
> 
> I want to clarify that I'm writing Ahsoka as bisexual, which is my personal headcanon for her. While I'd like to write an actual Ahsoka/Kaeden fic someday, due to time travel shenanigans that would be weird, and so I went with Rexsoka (which I only ship for Rebels era Ahsoka). It'll usually be background, and I'll mention in the beginning notes in the few cases where it's not.
> 
> Padmé is barely in this part, because she has four month old infants, and deserves a break. Not that she's actually taking one, politically, but she's at least not running around the galaxy on top of that.


	2. Ahsoka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late (again. Apparently even when I have things written I can't upload them in a timely fashion). I managed to spill tea on my keyboard and break it at the worst possible time last week, and can't send my computer into the manufacturer for a few weeks because I need it for a very important grad school thing that's been keeping me insanely busy. So now I have a bluetooth keyboard, and can actually type sentences again.

Lothal felt different in this timeline. Many things did. Every time Ahsoka saw something on the HoloNet she remembered happening, but days, or weeks, or months away from when she remembered, the fact that this wasn’t _her_ timeline was hammered in more. Emphasizing that she couldn’t take her past as definitive foreknowledge. People, places, things were undeniably altered. But she couldn’t ignore what she knew either, not when doing so could doom any number of beings, or even entire planets. Ahsoka walked an uncertain path.

Lothal, though. Lothal was something else entirely. The planet felt dormant. Not like the Bendu, who had refused to appear when she called for him, his only response a rumbling snort through the Force. Rather, like the curious manifestations of the force that pervaded Lothal did not want to be disturbed. She landed near the temple, but it gave no response when she attempted to call for it. If anyone needed a new crystal in the future, when and if they reached the point of open rebellion, they would likely need to find an alternative. Since Illum, and Christophsis, and Mygeeto were already looted of their crystals, or in the process, this was… inconvenient, to say the least. But if she removed Ezra from Lothal, drew Imperial attention away from the planet as much as possible, would it ever _need_ to awaken? They had the small stash of crystals liberated from Illum. Not ideal, but better than risking drawing Palpatine’s attention to any remaining kyber crystal sources. 

What all this meant in terms of how Ahsoka should approach the issue of the temple and the Empire was a question for another time.

Now was a time for dealing with stubborn, protective parents. Parents of an infant boy who Ahsoka knew could achieve great things. And parents who didn't yet truly comprehend the Empire, much less the consequences of speaking out against it. Lothal had invited the Empire initially. Ahsoka wasn’t certain, couldn’t remember every detail from her timeline, but she thought it unlikely the Bridgers would have begun their broadcasts yet. Rebels these days came primarily from planets involved in the Clone Wars – those saved by the Jedi, whose planets were targeted by the Empire, or former Separatists unwilling to give up the fight. Not that they had learned to work together yet. Linking cells from different factions had been a drawn-out struggle, on Ahsoka was not looking forward to repeating.

There was one slight problem in finding Ezra: Ahsoka didn’t know where his parents had lived. That meant she needed to find someone who did.

Ahsoka walked through the streets of Capital City, wearing a nondescript grey cloak to shield her montrals and facial markings from view. The hover-bike she kept on hand for exactly these situations had come in handy for the trek into town. That she was still not on any wanted lists remained a concern – she should be wanted for smuggling by now, at the least. Instead, nothing. Which could mean the Emperor himself was watching her. He was aware of the possibility of time travel, at least in her time, but she would limit the information he received, if she could.

She stopped at a jogan fruit stand. As she pretended to inspect the fruit, the owner, a middle aged Gotal male, frowned at her. “New in town, are you?”

“Just passing through.” She said, moving a nicely firm jogan fruit out of the pile. When she found a few more, she stacked them with the first.

“We don’t get many visitors here.” The vendor commented, likely more than a little suspicious of the hooded Togruta off-worlder who towered over him. “Got family here?”

“Family friends.” Ahsoka figured it would be too noticeable to claim humans were her family, though some were. “Know the Bridgers?”

“Over on Visker Lane?” He exclaimed. Ahsoka nodded, as though she had known that information all along. “Do I! Nice people.”

“That they are. I’ll take these then.” Ahsoka smiled as she pointed at the six fruits she had set off to the side. If Ahsoka was going to barge in and disrupt the Bridgers’ lives, she might as well come bearing gifts.

“That’ll be ten credits, then.” The vendor was definitely smirking under his bushy white mustache at pulling one over on a naïve off-worlder. She decided to let him, and handed over the credits. As she headed off to find the Bridgers, the vendor bid her a much friendlier goodbye.

The convenient thing about navigating Capital City was that it’s maze-like streets meant there was rarely more than one building that could really be said to be on an alley. But the maze of tightly packed industrial buildings did nothing to make finding any location easy for a non-native. Ahsoka hadn’t exactly spent much time mapping the alleyways alone on her few previous visits.

Once she finally admitted she was thoroughly lost, Ahsoka paid a local kid to point her in the right direction. Finding the Bridger’s home became embarrassingly easy. It was identical to the surrounding buildings, save for the fresh coat of white pain on the bottom floor. The human woman who answered the buzzer resembled Ezra greatly. His mother, Mira, alive and well. She smiled warmly at the sight of Ahsoka, despite the confusion on her face. “May I help you?”

“Hello, I’m Ailla Bardok, representative of Pryce mining. We’d like to speak to you and your husband about a potential tour of our facilities for a slot on your radio program.” Lying was no way to gain their trust, but if Ahsoka opened with _Hello, I’m here to take you and your son far away to safety, because he’s a Jedi and you’ll leave him an orphan otherwise,_ that would get her precisely nowhere. So she plastered on her best overly cheerful salesperson smile, and held out the bag of jogan fruit. It was her hope that once she was in the door, the Bridgers would prove willing to listen. The Ezra Ahsoka knew had grown up an orphan, but force willing, the infant Ezra inside would never lack for people who cared.

If her ploy caused problems for Arindha Pryce, now a young woman who would never become Governor of Lothal if Ahsoka had any say in the matter, all the better. Ailla Bardok was just one of many disposable identities Ahsoka had built up, and she hadn’t used it elsewhere, so repercussions on Pryce were unlikely, but she could hope.

“Oh! Please come in, then.” Mira Bridger opened the door wider, gesturing for Ahsoka to enter her home as she visibly calculated just how much she could charge a profitable mining company for positive publicity.

The interior was warm, neat, and well-cared for, but sparsely furnished, the hallmarks of a young family attempting to build a life on a long-neglected galactic outpost. There was a threadbare couch that might once have been plaid, across from two equally threadbare but mismatched chairs in faded paisley and stripes, with a rickety coffee table in the middle covered in holo frames of the couple and Ezra. The rest of the room was empty, the walls blank. Ahsoka could not see the other rooms, but expected they were in a similar state.

Ezra himself was cradled in the arms of Mira’s husband, who was seated in the striped chair. He was swaddled in a pale blue blanket, with only his curious face and a lock of blue-black hair peeking out. The sight of him warmed Ahsoka’s heart, and she had to stop herself from reaching for him.

“Have a seat.” Mira said, gesturing at the couch. “This is my husband, Ephraim, and out son, Ezra.”

“Thank you.” Ahsoka smiled, this time genuinely, and perhaps a bit to warmly for her supposed position as she sat in the indicated spot. “For you and your family, as thanks for hearing out our request.”

She held out the bag of jogan fruit.”

“Oh! We – thank you.” Mira accepted the bag, and took a seat in the paisley chair.

“So, what’s this all about?” Ephraim asked, neutrally, but decidedly less welcomingly than his wife. “There won’t be any bribery so we’ll trick the people of Lothal to work in dodgy conditions.”

“That won’t be a problem. Because I’m not here about that.” Ahsoka said.

The Bridgers stiffened immediately. Mira jumped to her feet, brow furrowed in anger. “What? You said –”

“I lied.” Ahsoka admitted. “I’m here because you and your son are in danger.”

“It’s not about your work.” It wasn’t a lie. Their work was not yet anything dangerous, though it would be if they stayed. “Have you… noticed anything, different. About Ezra.”

They shifted uneasily. Mira’s expression shuttered. “I think you should leave.”

So they had.

“I’m not with the Empire. I’m here to help.” Ahsoka explained, exuding calming feelings. ‘I can keep him safe, and both of you. But you’ll have to come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Mira threw the bag of jogan fruit straight at Ahsoka’s face. Her aim was true. If Ahsoka’s force-enhanced reflexes hadn’t enabled to her to catch it, the fruit would have broken her nose.

“This is our home!” Ephraim shouted. “You can’t just invade our home and order us to leave!”

“I’m not –” She started to protest.

But Mira Bridger spoke over her, pointing furiously at the door. “Get out of my home! If I ever see you around my son again, I _will_ inform the Empire on you, don’t think I won’t.”

“I’ll leave.” Ahsoka said. “But you _really_ don’t want to do that. Inquisitors on your doorstep? You think they won’t figure out what your son can do?”

“Are you threatening us?” Ephraim clutched Ezra against his chest. Through he had been surprisingly calm throughout the conversation, he began to wail. And Ahsoka realized just how badly she had overstepped.

“No. Of course not.” She backed away towards the door, hands held up placatingly, attempting to send soothing feelings toward Ezra. He quieted suddenly, and hiccupped. “Look. If you change your minds…” Her back hit the door.

 “We won’t.” Mira crossed her arms across her chest, her tone icy. “Get out.”

Ahsoka gave up. Not permanently. Not when it would mean leaving Ezra orphaned in the future. But these Bridgers weren’t even rebels yet, just ordinary workers still hopeful the Empire would make their lives better. It was a strategic retreat, to regroup.

Ezra waved a tiny hand at her, giggling, as she turned to leave, but Mira and Ephraim stood stubbornly, firmly as one against her. The door banged shut behind her with an ominous finality. Before she walked away, Ahsoka slipped a comm programmed to contact a single, secure frequency under the door. Likely they would throw it away, but she could always hope.

Failing people she cared about would always be the most difficult hurdle to overcome.

The ride back to the _Morai_ was calming, the wind blowing in her face, making her cloak billow out behind her as Lothal’s monotonous grass fields rushed by. Her thoughts never strayed from Ezra. Ahsoka had known, from the first, that she would not be able to fix everything.

She went through the motions of the pre-flight check on autopilot, but made herself focus for the flight off the planet. Lothal had little traffic, barely had an Imperial presence yet, so there really was no need to, but she liked to be careful. When she was safely in hyperspace, Ahsoka leaned back in her seat, kicking her feet up on the dash. It would have been difficult for that to go any worse. She held the bag of fruit up above her eyes and sighed. Padmé or the younglings would probably enjoy them, at least.

 

Ahsoka meant to have a long discussion with Kanan when he approached her upon her return. A discussion she suspected was sorely needed, as he had shown no intention of speaking to anyone else regarding the grief he had yet to deal with. Ahsoka knew the consequences of failing to mourn all too well, especially when someone felt they could not reach out for help. That was in large part what she suspected had driven Anakin steadily toward the dark side. She wasn’t nearly as concerned for Kanan. He had managed alone once and likely could again. But he didn’t have to this time.

Unfortunately, Bail had other ideas. There were many things Bail could have said that would have caused Ahsoka to delay action in favor of Kanan’s needs, but as soon as he mentioned Raada, Ahsoka sent him away. This was too important to ignore.

It had been a long time since Ahsoka last saw the Larte sisters, though she followed their careers long past the end of her relationship with Kaeden. She had pushed for Miara’s promotion to captain, when the explosive experts’ superior officers were blatantly ignoring the talent for leadership Miara had demonstrated even a fourteen. And Miara had proven her right, pulling off daring mission after daring mission, with all her characteristic flare, but significantly more subtlety. And Kaeden had proven her value to the Rebellion as one of their most skilled surgeons, had even found the cure to a mysterious poison designed by one of the Empire’s more … creative agents.

The Lartes’ value to the Rebellion was not the only reason Ahsoka intended to rescue the people of Raada, of course. But it was certainly a good excuse to save people she cared about personally, hopefully without the devastating casualties of the first time around.

“The Empire’s established itself on Raada, then?” She asked, once the door shut behind Kanan.

“About a month ago.” Bail replied. “My informant just managed to sneak off planet and get word to me.”

Ahsoka would have liked to simply swoop in and carry off the inhabitants of Raada before this. Only there would have been nothing to rescue them from. And as Ahsoka had only just discovered with the Bridgers, content people tended to resist being asked to leave their homes, even if they were being offered an easier life somewhere like Alderaan. Oh, she might have been able to tempt Kaeden and Miara and a few others to leave for opportunities elsewhere, but that would mean leaving the majority behind to the mercies of the Empire. And those that left with no motivation to join the rebellion. The Lartes weren’t the only Raadans who had proven useful over the years.

It was a calculated move that left a sour taste in Ahsoka’s mouth. But she couldn’t think of a better option. “Wait until Rex gets here to tell me the rest. In the meantime, how’s your daughter?”

Bail’s tired face broke into a wide smile, that of a father’s pride. “She said her first word yesterday! Dada.”

The Princess of Alderaan in this timeline was most definitely not Leia Organa. She was older by at least six months, and Alderaanian orphan, and blonde. All that only confirmed the suspicion Ahsoka had long harbored that the Leia in her timeline was Anakin and Padmé’s daughter, biologically. She had dismissed that suspicion for years as wishful thinking, but in Leia’s teenage years the resemblance to Padmé became too great to ignore. And here, there was Princess Evaan and Leia Naberrie. And, of course, Luke.

Ahsoka had spent far too many hours that could have been better spent doing all sorts of important things attempting to puzzle out the mystery of what happened to Luke in her timeline, and reached no conclusions. She could only hope he had been hidden more effectively than the other Leia.

“Congratulations.” She smiled back, then smirked. “Before you know it, she’ll be ordering you around.”

“I can hardly wait.” Bail laughed. “She already has the entire planet wrapped around her middle finger, so they can hardly blame me when their Viceroy starts wandering around with homemade flower crowns on his head.”

“She’ll start a new fashion.” Ahsoka joked, as Rex entered her office. Rather than take Kanan’s vacated seat, he took up position behind her, with a hand on her left shoulder. He had yet to shake his military formality, likely never would, but he was learning how to be more comfortable in his own skin, helped along by the few centimeters of blonde hair and carefully trimmed beard he’d cultivated over the past year.

“I would expect no less from my daughter. Hello, Captain.” Bail returned instantly to professionalism.

“Senator.” Rex nodded. “What’s this about?”

“Raada, a moon Ahsoka asked me to keep an eye on, has been invaded.” Bail explained. “She did not tell me why a moon with only a small farming settlement is so important.”

“It’s not the moon.” She said. “It’s who’s on it.”

“Is it?” Ahsoka could hear the smirk in Rex’s voice. If Bail wasn’t there to hear, Rex would definitely be calling her General Tano, and teasing her good-naturedly about how secret she kept all her future knowledge. He could make all of this almost seem normal. “And who might that be?”

“Some people who will be very helpful to the cause. And my ex-girlfriend.” Ahsoka mumbled that last part, reluctant to expose her less altruistic motives for this mission to Bail. “Who is brilliant and will also be very helpful.”

Rex, who had clearly lost more of his affinity for military protocol than she thought, because he was joking with her in the middle of the briefing, chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure she will be.”

Ahsoka scowled, not liking that line of teasing. “It’s in the past.”

“Anyway.” Bail returned them to the topic at hand. “The imperials arrived a month ago and set up their typical operations on a temporary base. The farmers are being forced to grow the crow the Empire uses to make its rations, which ruins the soil, and they’ll be abandoned without resources or enslaved depending on the whim of the commanding officer, Pilar.”

“The Empire at its finest.” Rex scoffed. “What’s the plan?”

Rex knew full well that nothing ever went as planned. Ahsoka was just proud her alternative solutions tended to involve a bit more subtlety and a lot fewer explosions these days. Something neither her Master nor Grandmaster had ever learned.

 “We fly in, offer a lift, and evacuate to an Alderaanian transport just outside the system in batches.” She said, shrugging. Simple was often better. Less to rework when it inevitably went wrong.

 Rex squeezed her shoulder. “Sounds solid. But let’s go over the details.”

            

Two hours of planning, one requisitioned mid-size cruiser ready and waiting, and six hours in hyperspace later, Raada was before them, a star destroyer looming above its surface. An oddly nostalgic sight, but not one Ahsoka had ever expected to revisit on this particular moon.

 “You let her sister’s tooka destroy her textbooks? And she didn’t dump you?” Rex faked indignation.

 When Ahsoka left Kaeden and Miara Larte on Alderaan, she had not expected to keep her promise and visit them. Nevertheless, the first time her work as Fulcrum necessitated she return – in painstakingly detailed disguise – Ahsoka had found herself seeking Kaeden out. The new medical student had been delighted to see her, and asked her out for drinks. One thing led to another and –

 Well. Ahsoka had gotten the chance to kiss Kaeden after all.

It had been surreal. Her first real relationship, the woman with the normal life she came home to from the front. That disconnection between her life and her relationship had likely driven them apart faster. Ahsoka still had no idea how Anakin and Padmé had managed it, and seemed so happy. Though they hadn’t, in the end. An argument followed by acceptance was an infinitely better way to end a relationship than mass murder. But Ahsoka hadn’t known about the mass murder back then, and thought their story romantically tragic. When her own youthful love story fell apart, it felt in a way like she was failing her Master.

But unlike her Master, Ahsoka figured out she was wrong, and moved on.

From what she could tell, Vader still selected his Jedi hunting locations by where he thought Padmé would be hiding, except when he was looking for Obi-wan. Whether he wanted revenge, or his wife back, Ahsoka couldn’t tell. But he certainly wasn’t moving on. Ahsoka had yet to share her suspicions with either of them. Both Padmé and Obi-wan tortured themselves over Anakin enough without her adding to the list.

“What, it’s my fault Miara’s pet was a maniac?” Ahsoka rolled her eyes for about the thousandth time on the trip, though she was back to being grateful for Rex’s teasing. His constant ribbing had proved a mostly successful distraction from her worry over Raada, or dwelling on her failure with Ezra’s parents. Which was definitely why rex had kept it up so long. He knew something was wrong, and was waiting for her to admit it. But it could wait until Raada was no longer a problem. “Not that this isn’t fun, but let up for a bit. I need to focus, unless you want to become space dust.”

They were now within range of the Star Destroyer’s radar. It was time to find out just how well that new stealth tech upgrade worked. After almost getting shot down over Christophsis last week, the exorbitant expense had seemed prudent.

The upgrade was worth every credit Hondo had greedily extracted from the Rebellion’s coffers. They weren’t hailed by the destroyer, and a patrolling tie passed by without incident. It was all too easy to slip by and make her approach to the moon, heading for the ravine she remembered hiding her ship in the last time. She almost started to think this would go as planned after all.

Which was of course when things began to go wrong.

She could see smoke rising from town even at a distance. Ahsoka could not be sure of the cause, but Miara had used a similar tactic before. And this time without Ahsoka there to assist. All the worst possibilities flashed through her mind, and she grit her teeth, keeping the ship on course for the ravine. If they were too late, there was nothing they could do.

Rex whistled. “That’s a lot of smoke for an in and out plan.”

“Good thing you brought your blaster.” Ahsoka sighed. She carried one as well, hooked onto her belt alongside her disguised lightsabers. “I should’ve known better than to think for a second this would be easy.”

“It’s never easy.” Rex agreed, somber and instantly prepared for war. Ahsoka was the same way now, but she had at least had the benefit of a childhood free from the shadow of war and a galaxy in open upheaval. Rex had been bred for one purpose alone, and though he was far more than one identical soldier in millions, he would never be able to leave that purpose behind. It had taken betrayal for him to begin to question his loyalties, like it had taken betrayal for Ahsoka to realize she needed to forge her own path. Rex would not finish that process so long as the Empire lasted, and any of his brothers remained in bondage. Fighting for a cause he had chosen was still fighting.

The _Morai_ was a tight fit in the ravine, the edge of one of its satellite dishes scraped along the rock. She would have to fix that later.

Ahsoka pulled up the hood of her clock as they walked down the ramp. Rex did likewise. Setting foot on Raada was even stranger than Lothal had been, albeit in an entirely different way. Lothal was different in the force. Raada was exactly the same as she remembered, triggering nostalgia. Ahsoka shook it off. This entire venture felt like history repeating itself, though nothing about it was the same.

The walk to town was spent in silence.

The town itself was also silent, not a single light in evidence, save at the cantina. The residents asleep indoors, or gone. In hiding, perhaps, or dead. She tried not to think about the last option. If anyone would be in and willing to talk, it would be Selda. The other Togruta had once tried to take her under his wing, thinking her nothing more than a refugee of his own people. She hadn’t let him, or course, unwilling to risk discovery. Selda’s cantina stood out in Ahsoka’s memory as the last place she had been accepted as one of many, as the much-needed town mechanic. It had been a homey, bustling place before the occupation. After, a resistance was plotted under the stormtroopers’ noses over a game of crokin. One that had likely gone forward without Ahsoka to mitigate the consequences.

Selda was behind the bar, though it was long past curfew. Otherwise, the canteen was completely empty. The cantina owner frowned at their intrusion, and did not relax when he realized they were not Imperial. Ahsoka faltered in her greeting. This Selda did not know her, and would not take to being greeted like an old friend.

“The cantina is closed.” Selda said, gruff and more than a little hostile.

“We’re not here for a drink.” Ahsoka strode forward with feigned confidence, and leaned against the bar. Rex stayed back, keeping watch at the door. “Mind telling a pair of travelers what’s happened here?”

“Travelers. Sure. A Togruta and a clone waltzed past a Star Destroyer for a visit to our lovely moon.” Selda’s remaining lekku twitched skeptically as he crossed his arms.

“It was worth a shot.” She shrugged. “What if I told you I could get you and all the farmers off this moon in under twenty-four standard hours?”

“I’d ask for the catch.” Selda remained untrusting, but leaned forward in interest. This was where she had gone wrong with the Bridgers – newfound stability did not lead to a willingness to take chances. But desperation did.

“No catch. You can be set up in a brand-new cantina on a nice, safe core planet in a week. Or take another job I can offer. Entirely your choice.” Ahsoka kept her tone sincere and soothing. “There’s a ship waiting. Just say the word.”

“Say I’m interested. Why do you care?” Selda asked. Ahsoka suppressed a grin. She’d won him over.

“This is what I do. Or part of it.” An oversimplification, perhaps, and not why Ahsoka chose the people of Raada to save now when so many other planets were worse off, but not a lie. “So. What exploded?”

“Some of our younger folk got it into their heads to resist, attacked the base. Most of them got away, checked in with me before running off to their hideout outside town.” Selda explained, more dismissive of the idea than she remembered, but it was a long time ago. She couldn’t remember everything. Was the hideout the caves? Had someone gone exploring, and found them? Ahsoka had brought them there before. “But a few were killed, and our amateur bomb maker’s older sister was captured.”

Kriff. Not again. Ahsoka sighed. “I’ll handle it. Give me two hours.”

It seemed a rescue was in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evaan is from the Princess Leia comic miniseries. She's a rebel pilot and Alderaanian who was mentored by Breha, and was elected the leader of the Alderaanian flotilla after Leia went back to the Rebellion. I don't think her parents were ever mentioned, and wanted to have a character with an existing relationship with one of the Organas be their kid.
> 
> In E.K. Johnston's short story in the From a Certain Point of View compilation, Miara mentions Kaeden is serving on a Rebellion medical frigate, and I figured she might be a doctor.


	3. Satine

Satine let her head drop to the desk and groaned. It was times like these she was almost thankful she no longer bore the weight of the Mandalorian crown. The literal weight. Wading through endless financials was difficult enough without the added burden of a heavy headdress. If she could take back the figurative weight of ruling her system, she would do so in an instant.

It wasn’t that Bo was doing a poor job as Duchess. Not in the slightest. Her younger sister was learning and doing an admirable job at that. Her ever impulsive little sister had not learned restraint overnight, but she was cultivating newfound patience and maturity that Satine could see growing day by day.

For the first time in her life, Bo was listening. But that wasn’t to say she listened to _everything._ She certainly wasn’t planning to adopt Satine’s pacifism. No, Bo would support the Empire, outwardly, and supply the Imperial Navy with many of its best recruits, both real and rebel. All while building a navy of her own in secret, while gathering support from those who chafed under Imperial rule. It was a dangerous path to walk, and one Satine could not walk for her. Would not have been able to, in Bo’s place, even if Satine had been able to retain her throne. Her known connection to Obi-wan, and her past clashes with the Emperor would have made her a target. Satine was now merely an adviser, not the Duchess. In public, around the Empire-appointed officials who had been sent in lieu of a governor or Moff, Satine wasn’t even that.

All of that added up to one thing: Satine Kryze, former Duchess of Kalevala, ruler of Mandalore, and leader of the Neutral Systems, a woman who had defined her life by her duty her people. By her dedication to bringing peace to Mandalore and the galaxy at large. Was a relic of a former age, relegated to the dreary, nameless task of account management.

Once Satine had hoped she would pave the way to the dawn of an age of peace and prosperity, free of the trappings of Mandalore’s violent past. A dark age of Empire had dawned in its place. Everything she dedicated her life to, gone. Replaced by systematic slavery and oppression masquerading as order.

Satine suspected it was an age she had not been meant to witness. Yet here she was. Alive, and useless. Little more than a glorified accountant.

And she was bored. Constantly. The mundanity of her daily work was familiar, in some ways. As Satine prepared to take on the mantle of Duchess in her youth, understanding economics and finance had been necessary, if tedious. But boredom was not a feeling to which she was accustomed, outside endless meetings with long-winded ministers. Nearly all of whom turned out to be corrupt, or traitors. Her Mandalore was a failure long before Death Watch, doomed by the war and her own misplaced trust. So much for her judgment of character. Perhaps it was for the best that Bo ruled now, after everything Satine’s rule had wrought.

Much as it pained Satine to admit it, the Empire was not a problem that could be solved with diplomacy. Satine used to say that even extremists could be reasoned with. The galaxy seemed determined to prove her wrong in that assertion.

Either way, the Empire was not simply a collection of like-minded extremists. The Empire was a corrupt bureaucracy embedded in the very fabric of the galaxy by decades of a single, powerful, twisted man’s machinations. A plot so carefully crafted that a breath of air had brought down all Satine and so many others worked for like a house of cards.

Her skillset was not exactly suited to taking down empires. Not when pacifism was so deeply embedded in the core of her identity. She would be a fundamentally different person should she give that up. A person Satine would be unable to face in the mirror. But she could learn to be flexible when it came to others, and their dedication to overthrowing the empire. It wasn’t easy, would likely never be. But it was necessary.

So Bo-Katan, who could do what Satine could not, sat on Mandalore’s throne. Her sister, who Satine would likely never forgive entirely, but loved and respected all the same. And so Satine organized spreadsheets, checking account after account, day after day. It was all she could do for her people, from the inside.

That didn’t make her losses sting any less, make the role Bo played in her downfall feel any less like a stab to the heart.

And it didn’t mean she wasn’t bored.

She sighed, and banged her forehead on the desk again.

“Is this a bad time?” A snide, but fond voice as familiar as her own interrupted Satine’s self-pity. Bo stood in the door, smirking, though her amusement was belied by the dark bags under her eyes and her continued discomfort with the regalia of office. Bo had never truly been comfortable in anything other than armor. She carried the headdress like a helmet, half-soldier, half-queen. The calla lily headdress truly was the one thing Satine was happier without, in her new, diminished position. At least her neck was no longer in constant pain.

“There’s never a bad time for you, Bo.” Satine smiled as her sister took the seat across form her. “What is it?”

“I couldn’t have wanted to see my sister?” Bo asked with a cheeky grin, regressing momentarily to the child who had long ago followed Satine everywhere. Before their parents’ assassination, before Obi-wan, before Satine was Duchess. Before Bo decided Satine was weak, and ran off to become a terrorist.

“You’ll see me at dinner, and I know you’re scheduled to meet with the Minster of Agriculture now.” Satine replied flatly. “So, no.”

“You got me.” Bo sighed, aging twenty years in a breath. “The Saxons found doonium on unclaimed Viszla territory, and reported it to the empire without going through me. Ursa Wren caught them out, and came to me. I wanted to run an idea by you?”

She said the last sentence hesitantly, but Satine expected the “idea” to be a fully-fledged plan, and a good one at that, ready for implementation. Sometimes, Satine thought that her presence in Sundari as an unofficial adviser might be holding Bo back. That Bo’s reluctance to act on major issues without Satine’s opinion on the matter kept her from truly becoming Mandalore’s ruler in her own right. But all she said was, “Of course.”

Bo pulled out a datapad of her own, and opened a file that summarized what she knew, and listed her plan of action, before handing it to Satine. It was significantly less attack-oriented than the Bo of not-so-long-ago would have come up with. She thought she could see the mark of Ursa Wren’s influence in the strategy, though only slightly. If Bo was to make her own alliances, separate from those made as a follower of Pre Viszla, she could do far worse than the Wrens. Satine rather liked Alrich, Ursa’s peaceful artist of a husband.

To put Bo’s plan simply, the Saxons would be fined heavily for any failures in safety standards or miner benefits, with the proceeds deliverable to both the Wrens, and the Duchy. The Saxons, not known for frugality, would be in the red within a year of beginning operation. Without directly contradicting the Empire’s demands, or the deal the Saxons made for control of the doonium vein, Satine could see no better solution to the problem.

She set the datapad down, and pressed her palms down on the desk, meeting Bo’s eyes. “It’s a good plan. But you knew that.”

“It’s still good to hear you say that, after all my mistakes cost you.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. The Duchess of Mandalore could not be so uncertain.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Satine rolled her eyes. It was half a lie, but a necessary one.

“Still. Thank you.” Bo said, her smile becoming sincere.

 “Don’t you have a meeting to attend?” Satine quirked a brow at her sister’s attempt to delay. She knew from experience how monotonous the agricultural minster could be, but it would only be worse if Bo kept him waiting longer.

“Ugh, yes.” Bo pouted as she stood, rolling her shoulders in preparation. She left, certainty in her bearing, leaving Satine behind with only spreadsheets of government funds and spending to keep her company. Bo left the datapad behind. Satine glanced at her work, and sighed. She ran a hand through her hair, making the short pieces stand on end. She picked up Bo’s datapad, and absently clicked through the data. It was well-organized, likely with the help of Bo’s assistants. Even as she proved a competent ruler, Bo would likely never show a talent for managing the details of administration. That was something Satine still helped with, though in an area any proficient accountant could handle.

An image caught her eye in the file on the doonium vein discovery, displaying the statistics of doonium quotas under the republic for its last twenty years, compared to the first year under the Empire. There was an exponential increase in the past year, despite the supposed end to the war. If she recalled correctly – she pulled open trading records on her own datapad, and ran a shirt. Yes, the price of doonium had skyrocketed recently as well, more than could be accounted for by the Empire’s known shipyards. Wages had not. That reminded Satine of something she had been asked to watch out for by Ahsoka. There was something here. If there was one thing Satine could still do, it was analyze data. And this data was very, very clear. And very, very important.

The other thing Satine still had was money. Though it now rested under Bo’s name, officially, their family fortune remained partially in Satine’s possession. The Kryze clan was ancient, and wealthy, built on the blood of their enemies. What better way to use blood money than for the good of those in the galaxy her ancestors would have trampled?

For the first time in months, Satine worked frantically to formulate a plan.

She would need back-up for this. Her plan was rash, and ill-advised, but she wasn’t stupid. It was a good thing she had an old friend with a weakness for reckless adventures. She keyed his number into her holoprojector and waited for the call to go through.


	4. Obi-wan

Obi-wan wiped the sweat from his brow and took a swig of water from his canteen. As much as he appreciated Petro’s eagerness to learn, Obi-wan was not getting any younger. But he preferred the activity of teaching lightsaber forms and sparring with Petro or Katooni, or taking on whatever missions he could to avoid the crushing weight of his own thoughts.

 He had not set out to take on students. When he told Depa he was not ready to assume that responsibility again, that he was not certain whether he every would be, it was the truth. The younglings had other ideas. For the most part, they preferred lightsaber lessons, and there, Obi-wan was able to oblige. Petro in particular was eager to learn from the famed Master Kenobi. If only Obi-wan was capable of living up to their expectations.

Kanan presented a more complicated case. The Padawan was more inclined towards asking the difficult questions, ones Obi-wan would have preferred to avoid delving into. He answered them anyway. Far be it from him to discourage that quality in the young. Kanan had a bright, inquisitive mind; a mind Obi-wan could see paving the way forward for new Jedi Order the boy’s Master hoped to build.

So long as Kanan got the chance to grow into the Jedi he could be, that was. The boy seemed ever more conflicted of late. It was understandable – he was at the age where teenage Jedi believed themselves invincible, capable of participating in their Master’s riskier work. Under ordinary circumstances, that would be allowed, even encouraged, though hardly to the extent Ahsoka and other wartime Padawans had done. These were not ordinary circumstances, however. The stakes were higher, the risk too great.

And the boy’s unwillingness to discuss his problems was not reassuring. Obi-wan had sworn never to ignore the signs of internal conflict again. Still, when Kanan promised to discuss it, Obi-wan was relieved the boy had not chosen him as confidant or guide. He had failed in that role before. So long as Kanan spoke to Depa or Ahsoka in the next few days, and showed improvement, Obi-wan would not push him further.

Petro let out a battle cry, running headlong at Obi-wan without giving him the chance to set down his canteen. His blade was held in the Ataru opening position. It was a form Obi-wan thought suited Petro well, though he did not yet possess the skill to wield it in combat. Thankfully, here on Atollon, there was only sparring and simulations to challenge him.

Obi-wan sidestepped the charge with ease, and calmly set down his canteen before blocking Petro’s next blow. Obi-wan’s own Soresu was useful in defending against the more aggressive style, but Petro never seemed to get tired. They continued sparring, for a few minutes, Petro always on the offensive, Obi-wan simply blocking. He would have to get the boy to work on his defense more soon.

The boy attempted to flip out of the way, but tripped, stumbling but keeping his feet. It was an improvement over the last few times Petro tried that move. Obi-wan stopped his blow short, the tip of his blade at Petro’s throat. “Why don’t we stop here for today?” Obi-wan suggested. Before the boy could protest, he added. “I’m old. I don’t have as much energy as you anymore.”

“If you say so, Master Kenobi.” Petro shrugged, and turned off his saber. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Unless I’m called away.” Obi-wan replied.

“Obviously.” Petro rolled his eyes, but remembered to bow to complete the spar before running off, likely headed off to the mess hall to fill that endless pit growing boys called a stomach. Petro and Kanan alone were nearly enough to eat the Rebellion out of house and home.

He hoped he could persuade Kanan, or even Katooni, to spar with Petro on a regular basis. Petro could use the challenge from a different style, and someone closer to his own skill level. While Katooni did join them sometimes, she was just as likely to be off with Kix or a rebel passing through, learning all sorts of un-Jedi-like skills Obi-wan was loathe to admit would benefit her in the Empire’s galaxy.

The last time Katooni joined Petro in requesting a lesson, before Obi-wan left for a mission on which he narrowly avoided engaging an inquisitor in battle and absconded in a lambda shuttle, Katooni had shown up with her lightsaber in one hand, and a blaster in the other.

_So uncivilized_ , he had thought, out of habit. Though he had not said as much out loud, Katooni seemed aware he disapproved of something, and had not returned in the few weeks since. When he thought about it, developing her skill with blasters would be important, if she remained determined to join the Rebellion. With lightsabers too risky to use openly, blasters might save her life. It was the combination of lightsaber and blaster that irritated him, but even then, Obi-wan could see the benefit. He supposed he owed Katooni an apology.

Obi-wan collapsed on his bed as soon as he reached his room. Someone would probably be by later to ensure he ate something, but he was too exhausted to make the effort himself. That wasn’t unusual these days. When he wasn’t out on a mission, pushing himself hard enough that he fell into a dreamless sleep at its conclusion, Obi-wan rarely managed more than an hour or two per night. Nightmares of Anakin mocking him over the bodies of the thousands Obi-wan had failed to save were the easiest to deal with.  But even those made him jerk awake, his heart pounding in his chest, leaving him unable to fall back to sleep. He rolled over on his side, and realized his comm was blinking, and likely had been for some time. Obi-wan weighed the consequences of ignoring it in favor of a nap and decided he would rather deal with whatever it was now, than wake from a nightmare and have to deal with it then.

He answered the call. A holo of Satine appeared, as collected and beautiful as ever in a simple, practical dress, her hair falling in gentle waves to her chin, perfectly framing her features. Obi-wan straightened, attempting to put his hair and robes into some semblance of order. It didn’t work.

“Obi-wan. You look terrible.” Satine said tactlessly.

“And you look as lovely as ever, my dear.” Obi-wan self-consciously stroked his bead, which was at the very least properly trimmed, even if the bags under his eyes spoke negatively of his overall wellbeing.

“Are you still not sleeping? Would it help to talk about it?” Satine leaned forward, her eyes widening in concern. There was another thing Obi-wan had not meant to do. Instead of letting Satine go, as Obi-wan had urged himself to do repeatedly, he risked contacting her across one of the base’s secure lines on a nearly weekly basis. The idea of disappearing from her life again as he once had was simply too much to bear after all Obi-wan lost.

But this was not a scheduled call. He deflected. “Somehow, I don’t think you called to ask about my sleeping habits.”

Satine allowed it, with a pointed glare that promised they would be revisiting the subject later. “No, actually. I wanted to ask you to accompany me on a fact-finding endeavor, or sorts.”

That was a surprise. He knew Satine was not precisely _happy_ with how the chips had fallen in determining the fate of Mandalore under the Empire – how could she have been, when she handed over rule to her younger sister, who had spent half her life opposing Satine’s bid for peace across the Mandalorian system. While Bo-Katan seemed tempered and moderated by the failure of Pre Viszla, to have seen her past choices for the horrible mistakes they were, it could not be easy for Satine to trust in her rule, much less see her succeed. But she had also not shown any desire to become more directly involved in the Rebellion. It hurt her enough to provide funds she knew would be used not just for supplies or relief efforts, but for weapons.

But Obi-wan knew better than to point that out. So, he raised an eyebrow and said. “Satine, are you asking me to help you spy on the Empire? How positively rebellious of you.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Caught-on-camera stealing an Imperial shuttle.” She teased him.

“You could not see my face in that video.” How was he supposed to know the Inquisitor Ninth Sister had been spotted on Correlia? That intel had come through while he was in hyperspace. Just because he’d forgotten to check his messages when he emerged, and he had to abscond with a shuttle to get the Twi’lek youngling and her family to their new home on Concordia…

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose your robe.” Satine paused, and smirked. “This time.”

Obi-wan scowled. “That was one time.”

“It most certainly was not. I received a requisition entitled ‘spare robes for you-know-who’ – quantity: 50 just last week. And that was the third time you’ve traded one of the perfectly good ships we sent for some scrapheap you happened across in as many months.” Satine pursed her lips, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. “And that’s why we’ll be using _my_ plan.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” He protested half-heartedly.

“Were you going to say no?” She raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully.

“I could have been on a mission.” He pointed out, but didn’t keep her waiting before admitting, “But no. Where are we going and what for?”

“I’ve noticed some discrepancies in mining practices on Batonn and remembered Ahsoka asked me to keep an eye out for such things. But I can’t access the real distribution numbers and locations from here.” Satine explained.

“Have you run this by anyone else?” He asked. Satine wasn’t exactly known for her patience when she set her mind to something, and it was entirely possible she had seen something that peaked her curiosity, decided she personally, needed to investigate it, and called him.

“Not without more information. I don’t want to waste resources on something I can easily handle myself.” She said.

“Oh, but you’re fine asking me to waste my time, if it turns out to be nothing.” Obi-wan knew Satine too well.

“Would you rather I go alone?” She tilted her head and flashed a cheeky smile.

“Certainly not.” Obi-wan was offended at the suggestion. That he would help her against his better judgment should not have been in question.

 “Good. Then you can meet me at the capital spaceport on Denash at eight standard hours for the transport to Paeregosto City on Batonn. Wearing something nondescript, and if you won’t shave you beard do something to disguise your face for once _please_.”

“But you like my face.” He said, because he couldn’t stop himself from antagonizing her.

“Yes, but so do bounty hunters. And Imperials. That’s why they have all those twenty-million-credit wanted posters everywhere.” Satine pointed out flatly.

“You won’t recognize me.” He promised.

Satine gasped in mock-offense. “You underestimate me, Obi.” 

“Never, my dear Satine.” He was surprised to find he was grinning.

“It’ll be just like old times.” She smiled, almost giddily, and signed off.

 Obi-wan flopped backwards onto his bed and wondered what he had gotten himself into. He couldn’t help but be excited to see her.

And that was the problem. Never was Obi-wan more tempted to throw out the Code he which he defined his life than around Satine. Had nearly done so permanently, once upon a time. But now the reasons to stay away felt insubstantial. Some Jedi had managed to maintain romantic relationships without developing unstable, possessive attachments. It was discouraged, considered a risk, but it was an open secret. The political implications of a Jedi carrying on an affair with the Duchess of Mandalore had limited his options to leaving the Jedi, or Satine. In some ways, that had made it easier. Obi-wan had never felt capable of that careful balance, had difficulty separating love and friendship from duty.

That was something he had always seen in Anakin, as well, but his attachment had blinded him to Anakin’s greater failings, from the danger he posed to the galaxy. He loved Anakin, wanted him to be happy, and so he ignored the signs of trouble, only ever admonished him in frustration when he put Padmé, or Ahsoka, or Obi-wan himself, or his _astromech_ over the lives of thousands of clones or even the galaxy.

The other Jedi – or not-Jedi, as Ahsoka insisted, despite more than possessing the qualifications to be named a Master – did not appear to struggle nearly so much with attachment in their grieving. Depa’s desire to emulate their late leaders stemmed from her sense of failure and grief as well. But she did not have the weight of failing the entire galaxy on her shoulders. Had not raised, and taught, and loved Darth Vader. Had rarely had contact with Palpatine. And Ahsoka was Anakin’s student. She felt responsible for his fall to some degree, certainly, but seemed to have come to terms with it. Seemed able to interact with and care for others without fear of attachment, of ruining them.

Without the barrier of their titles, his reasons for keeping Satine at a distance seemed flimsy. But the fear remained. Satine wasn’t Anakin, but Obi-wan was still Obi-wan. The last time he put aside his duty as a Jedi for her, the Jedi Order was destroyed, and a Sith Empire declared. If Obi-wan had chosen otherwise, it was unlikely he could have prevented otherwise – Ahsoka’s other timeline was proof enough of that. Satine would be dead, Obi-wan likely so as well, and unable to atone for his mistakes. Yet it was enough to prevent Obi-wan from acting on his feelings for her.

Or it was, so long as they were separated by thousands of lightyears. This would be the first time Obi-wan saw Satine in person since leaving Kalevala the better part of a year earlier, when he was nearly incoherent with grief. While his grief was undiminished, and his guilt remained, Obi-wan’s mind was much clearer. And so, he anticipated this too-familiar escapade with Satine with both worry and excitement.

But dwelling would only worsen his anxiety, and Obi-wan needed to prepare. He stood, running a hand through his hair, and grimaced at the grime he felt there. There was no call for meeting Satine in this state, and he had some hours before he needed to meet her on Denash. He made for the fresher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently in the middle of writing a thesis, so I have approximately zero time for fic-writing until mid-December. I wanted to update since this chapter was ready and so anyone keeping track wouldn't think this was being abandonned. It's not, I'm just busy writing about science at the moment.


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